


there's a heart stain on the carpet (i left it with you)

by youreanovelidea



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Adorable Gon Freecs, I love my angry assassin child so much, Lost Boy by Troye Sivan, M/M, Protective Killua Zoldyck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-27 21:57:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16228121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youreanovelidea/pseuds/youreanovelidea
Summary: If Killua is the physical form of darkness, then Gon is the poster child for sunshine. Killua is all rough edges and sharp corners and Gon is emerald hair and toothy grins. It's a bit disconcerting at first and Killua is altogether surprised and confused that somehow this bright-eyed boy has become his best friend.(or, Killua has realizations and Gon has sunlight in his soul)





	there's a heart stain on the carpet (i left it with you)

It starts when he is twelve.

Killua is used to nightmares. He is used to screams crawling up his throat, ripping the air out of his lungs and tearing him apart until he is completely unraveled. He understands the feeling of being in pieces, and of being left to put himself back together again in the confines of his room, surrounded by darkness and solitude. He is used to going days without sleeping. After all, his body is trained to withstand exhaustion. He is used to ignoring emotions until they simply sink away as if they have given up on existing. They're still hidden in the cavity of his chest—this, he knows—but he can't find it in himself to care anymore.

He is not used to dreams. He is not used to light and laughter and a feeling of curiosity rippling along his skin like a soft breeze. He is not used to falling asleep and waking up with thoughts of sunflowers and copper eyes running through his head. The idea is entirely foreign to him, and has been for years, because dreams are carefree and carefree is a luxury he does not have.

And, yet, here he is, waking up with a smile on his face and soft thoughts on his mind. And he knows exactly who is to blame for it.

If Killua is the physical form of darkness, then Gon is the poster child for sunshine. Killua is all rough edges and sharp corners and Gon is emerald hair and toothy grins. It's a bit disconcerting at first and Killua is altogether surprised and confused that somehow this bright-eyed boy has become his best friend.

"Are you awake already, Killua?" Gon asks, peering over at him.

Killua nods. "I'm used to waking up early, I suppose."

"Come here?" Gon asks, patting the spot beside him on the bed as he scoots closer to the wall.

And he does because by now, Killua can recognize the determined glint in tawny eyes that says _hey, you don't really have a choice, but I'm being nice and pretending like you do._

So he slides in next to his friend until their shoulders touch. Warmth spreads through him because Gon is infectious like that and he closes his eyes.

"Hmm," Gon says with a giggle. "It seems like you're still tired."

"Shut up." Killua tries to keep the fondness out of his voice, but from the way Gon inches closer to him until their hands brush, he can tell he doesn’t quite succeed.

He sighs and lets the other boy hook their pinkies together as he tries to even out his breathing. After all, he has a dream to get back to.

++

He is fourteen now and things are different, but still remarkably the same.

His heart still belongs to a boy with mossy hair and shining smiles and he can still kill someone with his bare hands. But, for some reason, he doesn't particularly want to anymore. He doesn't find himself staring at strangers on the street, wondering what it would feel like to crush their throats with strong fingers or rip their ribs apart and reach inside.

That's not to say, however, that he doesn't still have the occasional murderous urge.

It happens like this: dark alley, the glint of moonlight on metal, quick feet.

They're in an unfamiliar city and it's late and they are suddenly surrounded by the sounds of night falling around them. They're making their way back to the hotel room, both longing for warm sheets and soft blankets. It's been a long day after all, the pair searching for their next adventure and unsurprisingly finding trouble along the way.

They decide to take a shortcut through a nearby alleyway and that’s when it all goes to hell.

One minute, they're walking in a comfortable silence and the next Killua is on the ground with the air knocked out of him. He sits up, inhaling sharply as his vision tries to reset itself.

And then he hears a whimper and everything falls back into place.

Gon is being held off the ground by the neck, his legs kicking helplessly as he tries to claw at the large fingers wrapped around his throat. The action is futile and useless, Killua knows, especially since Gon is already fatigued from earlier fights.

Suddenly, the pain in his back is inconsequential because Gon needs help and that's really all the motivation Killua needs to stand up and sharpen his hand. He moves fast, but not fast enough because there's a knife at Gon's temple and blood slipping down tan skin before he can blink.

And everything is too loud. Gon is screaming and the man, whoever he is, is laughing—deep, throaty chuckles that are more grating than humorous, laughter that holds far more cruelty than amusement.

Killua reaches into the man's chest and _pulls, rips, tears_ until he's holding a beating heart between pale fingers. He drops it to the ground, turning before it makes contact, and catches Gon as he is released abruptly, the stranger falling with empty eyes as everything fades into quiet again.

"Gon," he says and shining brown eyes blink up at him.

"I'm okay. It's not that deep." Gon's voice is raspy, a testament to the red fingerprints circling the skin around his neck.

Killua frowns and clutches the boy tighter as he walks to the hotel, as fast as he dares to move without drawing attention to himself. He can feel Gon's breath against his collarbone and it's comforting in a strange kind of way, though this is quickly offset by the warmth sinking into his shirt and the smell of iron taking over his senses.

He knows, logically, that head wounds bleed a lot, but he's still concerned because this is Gon and Gon and quiet do not go together. They just don't.

They make it to the hotel quickly with Killua frantically trying to keep Gon talking, even if the mutters are incomprehensible.

He sets the dark-haired boy on the armchair in the corner and digs his phone out of his pocket as he walks into the bathroom briefly. "I'm calling Leorio. Don't argue with me. Just hold this against your head."

Gon takes the washcloth with a pout, but presses it to his head obediently.

It's not until several hours later when Kurapika and Leorio are long gone and the injured boy is asleep that Killua allows himself to relax. Even though Gon is tucked almost completely under the covers, the bandage that covers his temple is painfully obvious. But he's okay and that's all that really matters.

Killua wonders when he stopped being a murderer for hire and started being a murderer for Gon. After all, he had killed their attacker with no hesitation, not because he felt his own life was in danger, but because Gon was screaming. It was an almost primal reaction, the innate desire to save Gon controlling his actions before he even realized what was happening.

Gon shifts in his sleep, his lips curling down, and Killua is sitting next to him in the blink of an eye. His fingers are gentle when he runs them through dark hair and it makes him tilt his head curiously.

His hands are rough and calloused and trained to kill, to maim, _to destroy_. But they change when Gon is around, becoming soft and tender and careful.

He likes being a protector much better than he likes being a killer, he thinks as he trails his fingertips along the creases in his friend’s forehead.

++

He is sixteen when he realizes he’s in love with Gon.

His epiphany comes at the most inopportune moment, slamming into his chest like a jackhammer with enough force to shatter his ribs and leave his heart open and vulnerable. He flinches violently, mouth dropping open as he stares at Gon.

“Killua? Are you okay?” the dark-haired boy asks.

He nods dumbly.

Gon looks at him with a small frown, but drops the subject.

Killua is thankful for that.

They walk through the streets of a city he can’t remember the name of and Gon rambles on about tourist attractions and potential adventures.

Without meaning to, Killua tunes him out until Gon’s voice fades into a comfortable buzz of background noise. He studies the way sunlight falls across the planes of Gon’s face, illuminating the shadows under his eyes and the freckles scattered across his cheeks—faint, but still there if you looked closely enough.

 _I love you_ , he thinks to himself and it scares him.

Love is not something he has ever known. Growing up in a family like his meant that he was trained to see love as an impairment—as something that makes people weak.

Killua is a lot of things, but he is not weak.

But – as he looks at Gon, he thinks that his family might have been wrong. Because Gon loves more than anyone he’s ever met and he’s also the strongest person he knows.

He thinks of his childhood, of a mansion that is filled with cold eyes and violet auras. He thinks of training and killing and being ripped apart and molded into something stronger—something _better._ He thinks of his sister and doors that lock from the outside and of white shirts that are covered with blood more often than not.

Gon’s hip knocks into his own, dragging him out of his thoughts, and he turns to find his friend staring at him with a teasing grin that is edged with concern.

He offers his own smile in return—and it may be frail and breakable, but it’s still sincere because nothing involving Gon could ever be anything but.

++

He is eighteen when he kisses Gon for the first time.

He doesn’t mean to—it just sort of happens, which is how most things go where Gon is concerned.

They’re meeting Kurapika and Leorio at the nearest train station so they can follow up with a contact that apparently has news on one of their recent Hunter jobs. Killua is relieved because so far, they’ve only received empty tips and dead ends. But Kurapika’s contacts have never led them astray before, so he’s fairly confident that this lead will actually take them somewhere.

Gon’s fingers wrap around his wrist and tug him forward impatiently.

He laughs and stumbles forward. “Slow down. It’s not like they’ve never made _us_ wait before.”

“It’s polite, Killua. Besides, do you really want another lecture from Kurapika on punctuality?” Gon asks pointedly.

Killua thinks about that for a long moment, then sighs. “No.”

“That’s what I thought,” Gon replies and Killua is impressed that he manages to only sound a little bit smug.

He rolls his eyes and tries to ignore the warmth seeping into his skin from Gon’s touch.

Gon stops abruptly in front of a store window, sending Killua crashing into his back at the sudden pause.

He groans. “What the hell, Gon? A little warning would have been nice.”

But Gon ignores him, tawny eyes sparkling with excitement. “Wait here,” he orders.

Killua sighs, but leans against the brick wall obediently as Gon disappears into the shop. He taps his fingers against his thigh and leans his head back, closing his eyes. Wind ruffles his hair, white strands tickling his forehead.

He’s always been an impatient person at heart, but it’s different with Gon. He would wait a lifetime without a single complaint if Gon asked him to.

“Okay,” Gon says breathlessly, rushing out of the store and stopping in front of him. “I’m back.”

“I noticed,” Killua replies, lips twitching in amusement.

Gon grins and rocks back on his heels. “Here.”

Killua takes the bag, the paper crinkling under his fingertips, and reaches inside curiously. He pulls out a familiar container. “Chocolate balls?”

“Yeah!” Gon says enthusiastically. “I know they’re your favorite.”

“I haven’t had one of these in forever.”

Gon nods. “Not since Heaven’s Arena.”

“I can’t believe you remembered,” Killua whispers.

The dark-haired boy shakes his head and his voice is filled with a fond sort of exasperation when he replies, “You’re my best friend, idiot. Of course I remembered. I remember everything about you.”

_Oh._

There’s a warmth settling in his chest, almost as if there are fireworks going off in his lungs. Killua, for the first time, moves without thinking of the possible risks or consequences. He doesn’t calculate the odds of success or plan the best course of action; he just  _moves._

The bag is shoved into his pocket haphazardly and his hands cradle Gon’s face, his palms pressing against sun-kissed skin dusted with freckles and laughter lines. He kisses him then, all of his repressed emotions welling up in his chest and threatening to burst.

Gon’s lips are chapped, but still soft somehow and he tastes like candy and strawberry milkshakes.

For a moment, neither of them move and they’re both frozen in the space between. And then Gon makes a tiny noise of surprise and presses closer to Killua, hands settling on sharp hipbones as he kisses back just as fiercely.

It’s awkward at first, all clashing teeth and bumping noses, but it’s perfect just the same.

Killua pulls away, face heating up as he stares at the person who has owned his heart for years. His thumb swipes along Gon’s cheek, featherlight and cautious.

“I love you,” he says.

“I know,” Gon replies, as if it’s a simple fact of nature.

And maybe it is. The sky is blue. The grass is green. Killua loves Gon.

He laughs. “Of course you do. I’ve never been able to keep secrets from you, have I?”

Gon shakes his head, copper eyes lighting up. “Never. I love you, too. You know that, right?”

“I do,” Killua answers and he realizes as he says it that it’s not a lie.

He _does_ know. He always has.

Gon leans towards him, presses a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Good.”

Killua lifts his arm, draping it across Gon’s shoulders when the other tucks himself effortlessly into his side.

“Kurapika is going to lecture us again,” he says with a sigh that is entirely forced as he glances at his watch.

“Yup,” Gon agrees, but he can’t quite hide the wide smile that stretches across his face, dimples appearing in his cheeks.

Killua lets his fingertips graze the skin under Gon’s sleeve. “I think we can handle it.”

“Of course we can. It’s us,” Gon says without hesitation.

“Yeah. It’s us,” he says.

He is eighteen years old and best friends with a boy that holds the entire galaxy in his eyes.

He is eighteen years old and so in love that his heart feels like it’s on fire and ready to explode out of his chest in a strange burst of affection and happiness.

He is eighteen years old and that doesn’t scare him anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos, comments, and bookmarks make my world go round. Thank you for all the support and kindness. You guys make me smile <3


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